


Queen of Dust

by Windona



Series: Sandswept [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Character Study, background Padmé/Anakin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 07:31:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9168499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windona/pseuds/Windona
Summary: Adapting to life on Tatooine is no easy task.





	

Since she was in her double digits, Padmé Naberrie had been a working woman. By Naboo standards, she had been an adult when elected as Princess. She swore her life to her people before she reached her full height.

As the Republic had crumbled down around her, she had hid her tears behind a mask, waiting to get home before she cried. She saw the Temple aflame, and held her broken husband as he confessed how much he wanted to save her.

She stayed strong. She had to. Everything she loved was falling apart, and she had to save something of it.

So when she smuggled Anakin to Bail’s yacht and Obi-Wan brought up hiding out on Tatooine, she agreed. Naboo was the one planet that Palpatine did not necessarily need a Senator for, and Padme was known as the Voice of Democracy for a reason; it was logical that she would be the first to die in mysterious circumstances. It was better that Palpatine thought her and her children were dead.

Bail had agreed, and then her yacht was sacrificed for the sake of the ruse. She waddled off to the planet she had visited twice, not quite ready to start a new life. It would not be the first time she came to Tatooine after her life had been shaken up.

After all, when she was elected Queen, she merely reaffirmed her oaths. She was determined and strong, and knew she would give anything for her people. She had been willing to give her life to avoid signing the Trade Federation treaty. She had put aside her fear to oust Chancellor Valorum just so her people would have a chance.

In retrospect, that had not been the smartest idea. But she had been young, unprepared, and desperate to save those she loved. She did not fear dying for her people; she feared failing them. The system was broken and not doing anything, so she had to.

The occupation had been a wake-up call. Many of her citizens had died, and plenty were traumatized. A system of government that allowed this to happen had to be reformed; she spent tireless night after tireless night fixing things for her people. Therapy was made available to those who had been imprisoned. Buildings and roads were fixed. Alliances with the Gungans allowed safer passage in the swamps, and greater collaboration between the two people. She shot down the proposed modifications to term limits, wanting Naboo to maintain its prosperity and relative lack of corruption as long as possible. The reminders of what the plodding bureaucracy of the Republic had almost allowed to happen burned in her mind.

So when she was asked to be Naboo’s senator, she accepted with grace and fire. The system did not work, so she would reform it. No other planet would be failed like Naboo was.

But now was different. She sweat constantly, her throat parched. Dust collected, sometimes forming a slime. She had the urge to strip off her dirty clothes and jump into a lake, coming back up with a fluffy towel and a fresh outfit to wear.

Tatooine had no such pools, and cloth was limited. Thanks to the difficulties of shipping to the planet, many things those on Tatooine used had to be made there. Tatooine’s lack of a major textile industry made cloth expensive and hard to come by. Here she was now, helping Beru loom together some hearty cloth that could last years. Yet Padme had to hold back tears of frustration as the serak fiber threads she spun caused lumps in the cloth.

It wasn’t as if she was unused to hard work. There had been tireless nights and days where she ran on caffeine wore her out. There were days she spent just reading and reviewing bills. There were other days she went out to investigate with nothing but her faithful blaster by her side. Through it all, she kept going. She was doing something worthwhile every day, helping the people of the galaxy.

Padme could not say that her lumpy threads and rough fabric were helping anyone.

Beru, bless her, saw Padme’s frustration and patiently helped smooth the cloth out. Beru had decades of maintaining a homestead under her belt. Before then, Beru had been a slave. It was weathered hands that knew how to make cloth from bantha wool and what plant material Tatooine had to offer. The cloth on the loom was to last the twins for the next few years, sewn up while they were young and unfurled as they grew taller.

Owen and Beru were a good couple and good pair. Both could repair vaporators, haggle, and work cloth. It was usually Owen who worked the loom, but Beru decided to teach her while Owen and Anakin did vaporator maintenance. To Padme’s best guess, this was Beru’s way of trying to bond with her.

It did not make Padme feel any more useful. The facts stood. Since she was a child, she had been trained in politics and combat. A moisture farm on Tatooine did not need an expert on law and negotiation or a steady gun. What it needed was mechanics, weavers, and food pickers. Padme could pick food, but that required no special talent. She picked up managing the budget, but even that did not help much. Making the Lars too wealthy would invite the attention of the Hutts, even if she could balance the numbers that sweetly.

Looking over towards her children, Padme could not help but let her thoughts drift back to her dreams before Empire Day. She remembered telling Anakin about setting up a nursery on Naboo. There had been dreams of loosely draped curtains over windows looking towards the lake, stuffed shaak toys, and aid from her sister. Padme always knew that her fantasies of nursing on the porch and soft summer nights were never going to be reality. Yet she never thought that she would be raising her children anywhere but Naboo.

She could not let that through. She did not want Anakin to feel her disappointment and hardship. He already had enough on his plate.

Padme wanted to cry. It was unfair to Owen and Beru, who never knew another life. The hard fact of it was, though, that it was a life Padme never knew and never thought she would live.

Despite her efforts, tears leaked out of Padme’s eyes. Beru looked on, and rather charitably took pity on the former Senator.

“There, there. It may take some practice, but you are getting the hang of it. And won’t it be so much better to know your children are wearing clothes that their mother wove with love?”

Padme nodded. It made sense. Mustering her will and determination, Padme focused on adapting as best she could.

It was not the life she ever pictured living, but it was the only one she had. And if it was the only way to protect her family, that just meant she had to be better at it.

She could not wait until her children were old enough to learn actual lessons. Maybe then her skills would truly be of use.

**Author's Note:**

> I know that Padme is a competent and smart woman, but I get annoyed when people think her skills would instantly translate. I feel like she would want to help out as much as possible, but political skills don't adapt well to the day to day life of a farmer on a gangster ruled planet. (Though her skill with a blaster definitely comes in handy).
> 
> Don't worry, though; future Sandswept fics will show how she adapts.


End file.
